


Echoes of the Life We Had

by agent85



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Injury, F/M, Framework AU, Memory Fragments, The Sandwich
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-10-31 12:52:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10899723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agent85/pseuds/agent85
Summary: She can’t help but swallow when they bring him in. There’s a bag over his head, but she’d know him anywhere. She wrings her hands and prepares herself for the man Daisy’s been telling her about, the one with the dead, wandering eyes. When they pull the bag off his head, however, all she can see is the blood.It trickles down from his temple to his chin, and she’s closed the space between them before she can remind herself that he’s dangerous. A protective hand falls on her arm, but she shrugs the agent away.“He needs medical attention,” she says. “I can take it from here. Tell the director he can find us here if he needs us.”





	1. “Come here.  Let me fix it.” “I dreamt about you last night.”

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of [this prompt](http://agent-85.tumblr.com/post/159285504827/i-love-you-prompts-for-fs-4-or-7-or-22-or-59-or) from [lapiccolina](http://lapiccolina.tumblr.com/). 
> 
> In this AU, Fitz was captured before he could kill Agnes, order Mace's death, or finish Project Looking Glass.

She can’t help but swallow when they bring him in. There’s a bag over his head, but she’d know him anywhere. She wrings her hands and prepares herself for the man Daisy’s been telling her about, the one with the dead, wandering eyes. When they pull the bag off his head, however, all she can see is the blood.

It trickles down from his temple to his chin, and she’s closed the space between them before she can remind herself that he’s dangerous. A protective hand falls on her arm, but she shrugs the agent away.

“He needs medical attention,” she says. “I can take it from here. Tell the director he can find us here if he needs us.”

She’s almost surprised when they listen to her, these agents who let her barge into their lives just last week. She wonders if they actually believe in her tales of a better world, or if they’re spooked by the fact that she rose from the dead. Either way, Fitz does not share their deference.

It’s odd how proudly he stands there, even as the zip tie keeps his hands behind his back. She reaches out to put a hand on his shoulder, but when he steps back, she shakes her head and retrieves her medical supplies.

“Come here,” she says, holding out gauze as a peace offering. “Let me fix it.”

Reluctantly, he steps forward and slinks into the offered chair, his eyes never leaving her.

“You do this for all your hostages?” He raises his eyebrows as he asks. “Pretty them up for the ransom photo? Seems a bit counter-intuitive.”

She rolls her eyes at him. “Ugh, Fitz. You’re not a hostage anymore.”

He flinches when she puts her hands on his face, but seems to relax when she makes no move to gouge his eyes out. “What’s that supposed to mean? You think I was a—” He sucks air through his teeth as she cleans the wound. “You think I was a hostage before?”

She’s not in the mood to argue with him, so she simply nods as she works, letting him draw his own conclusions. His eyes flick up at her, and for a moment, she forgets that he’s been working with the enemy, that he technically still believes in their evil cause. Her thumb grazes his stubble, and it’s such a shame that she can’t kiss him, that she can’t make up for all the time they were apart. 

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” she assures him, “though it’ll look pretty bad for a few days. Not much I can do about that, I’m afraid.”

She catches his eyes again, and somehow they’ve come alive, piercing right through her soul. She almost loses her balance.

“Who are you?” he asks. She gives him a secret smile and carries on.

“Believe it or not,” she says, “I’m the one who’s trying to help you.”

“Oh,” he sneers, “like your friend tried to help me? By giving me this?”

She shakes her head. “Ward isn’t my friend.” 

“Then what is he to you?”

She takes a deep breath and lets it out. “Why should you care?”

His eyebrows twitch, and he leans back in the chair, just as she was about to tape the gauze.

“Oh, come on,” she admonishes, “hold still!”

“I dreamt about you last night.” 

The confession stops her in her tracks, and her arms fall to her sides as she stares helplessly at him. His blue eyes stare back with a mixture of curiosity and fear.

“I dreamt about you last night,” he says, almost in a whisper. He blinks, like he thinks it’ll wipe the memory away. “We were in a hole in the ground. Covered by rubble. You said my name, and I was . . .” 

He stops, squinting down at the floor. Jemma can barely breathe.

“What, Fitz?”

He swallows, and his head hangs down. “I was happy.”

When he sighs, she can see how it weighs on him. He taps his foot to distract himself, to distract her from the meaning he didn’t mean to give. She tells herself that she has to be brave.

“Is that what it is?” He looks up with a poisoned smile. “Have you been . . . messing with my head somehow? Some kind of psychic attack?”

She feels the sting in his words and shakes her head. “It’s not powers, Fitz. Mine or anybody’s.” She finishes and takes a step back to view her masterpiece, only to notice his split lip. She starts again.

“I was happy, too,” she says, avoiding his eyes. “Exhausted, yes, but happier than I’d ever been.”

He winces and pulls away from her ministrations, earning another eye roll from her.

“I didn’t say that,” he says. “How you looked. Just said you were there.”

“You didn’t have to say it,” she says, lifting his chin up for better access, “I know because I experienced it.” She tries to say it nonchalantly, but her voice catches, and even she can’t ignore the way his eyes are boring into her.

“It’s not a dream, Fitz,” she explains. “It’s a memory. It’s our life together.”

He frowns. “That’s impossible. I’ve never met you before.”

“And yet, you remember me,” she counters. “Don’t you ever feel like things aren’t quite right? Like your memories don’t fit?”

He cocks his head at her, and he’s still dripping with arrogance, still not sure if she’s going to kiss or kill him. But the more she looks in his eyes, the more she thinks she sees a flicker of realization. Is it possible? But it’s gone, just as quickly as it appeared.

“Well,” he says, “I don’t know why we’d be happy to be in a hole in the ground.”

She smiles at him, in spite of herself, in spite of the wide web that traps them both. It’s not everything, she knows, but it’s a start. 

“I can tell you,” she says, “but it’s a long story.”


	2. “I want you to be happy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based off of a [prompt](http://agent-85.tumblr.com/post/159361350427/fs-92) from [leopoldjamesfitzs](http://leopoldjamesfitzs.tumblr.com/).

She hoped he would remember right away. After all, Coulson is already finding the bits and pieces of his life, even if he isn’t sure how to fit them all together. 

But after spending time with Fitz in the lab, in the kitchen, and even in what used to be their room, he still insists on giving her incredulous looks.

“Look,” he says as he sits at the table, “there’s no way that I, Leopold Fitz, winced when you supposedly stuck a needle in Doctor Radcliffe’s eye.” He smooths down the SHIELD issue t-shirt like it’s one of his designer suits. “I’m a scientist.”

“You’re a squeamish scientist,” she says as she works behind him, “always have been. You were even worse at the Academy.”

“And that,” he says with a finger in the air, “is another impossibility. My father never would have allowed me to work for SHIELD.”

She presses her lips into a thin line and takes a deep breath through her nose. She makes sure to smile as she places two plates laden with sandwiches on the table and takes a seat opposite him. He frowns at his lunch.

“A sandwich?”

She rolls her eyes at him. “What, you’re not allowed to eat sandwiches in this brave, new world of yours?” She gives him a good-natured sigh. “Well, you can at least try it. You were pretty fond of it back home.”

She tries not to watch him, but she can’t help it. His ridiculous haircut might cost a month's worth of her salary, but he smells the sandwich first, just like he always has. 

“What’s in it?”

“Prosciutto,” she says, “and buffalo mozzarella, which is somewhat difficult to track down in these parts.”

He frowns again before taking a bite, and she’s at the edge of her seat. She doesn’t miss the way his eyes light up, how the corner of his mouth curls into a smile.

“Is that . . .”

“It’s pesto aioli,” she says, feeling a swell of pride. “Just a hint. I make it myself.”

She’s about to ask him if he likes it, but her answer comes when he takes another bite, then another. He gobbles it up before she can manage her own first bite, but she doesn’t mind.

“So?” she asks.

He wipes the corners of his mouth and takes a deep breath, cocking his head at her.

“Why are you doing this?”

The question catches her so off guard that the best she can do is mumble a, “What?”

“This,” he answers, “all of this. Why spend all this time on me?”

She’s not sure how she should answer, because she’s already told him everything—the Bus, the ocean, the planet. And he’s the one who admitted to having dreams about her, so he should know.

Shouldn’t he know?

She never did tell him about rest of the story of Romania, the parts that would make her blush, but surely he could read between the lines.

Or, maybe he can’t. Maybe his life has been so devoid of love that he doesn’t see it when it’s staring him in the face. 

“Fitz,” she says, swallowing her hesitancy, “you said that in your dreams—your memories of me—you were happy.” 

She watches as he nods, then lets his head hang down. She knows what he’s done in this world, but her heart still aches for him. Her hands reaches out for his before she can think better of it.

“I want you to be happy,” she says, opening his palm so she can trace the lines. She doesn’t believe in palm-reading, of course, but she’s starting to believe in fate. He closes his hand around her fingers, and her eyes dart up to his, though she finds them unreadable.

“The sandwich,” he says, clearing his throat. “it was delicious.”

She can’t contain the smile that spreads across her face or tear her eyes away from their hands. One day, she thinks, she’ll tell him that even when he wasn’t himself, he still managed to give her hope.

“Good,” she says.


	3. “Sorry I’m late.” “I’ll meet you halfway.”

“I’m not going to do it,” he says.

She tells herself that she should have expected him to react this way, but the folded arms and the arrogant stare are still a blow to her heart. They’ve been making slow and steady progress, but it seems they have a long way to go.

“Fitz.”

His expression hardens. “I’m not going anywhere. This is my home, Simmons.”

She knows the argument he doesn’t use, that he still has to protect the world from the threat of Inhumans. His Hydra indoctrination hasn’t been easy to dispel, and no amount of sandwiches is going to fix that. All she can do is hope that he has enough memory fragments to know that his home is elsewhere. 

“You know that this is a simulated world.”

He purses his lips. “So you’ve told me.”

“So you  _ remember _ ,” she counters. “You know you’ve had another life. This is the way to get back to it.”

She knows he’s afraid because she knows _ him _ , and no amount of brainwashing could take away his deep-seated insecurities. The more he tells her about Madame Hydra and his father, the more she understands that he lives his Inhuman-hating life for them. If they had more time, maybe she’d be able to show him that the love they give him isn’t love at all. For now, she’ll have to sell him on a dream.

“You told me you were happy in the moments you remember, Fitz! You can be happy again.” She folds her arms, mirroring his stance. “But I’ll meet you halfway. All you have to do is go through the back door, and you can see for yourself. And if you don’t like it, you can come back.”

He cocks his head at her, furrowing his brow. “Come back? You’ll let me?”

She has to take a breath, because this is what haunts her dreams. But she nods, anyway.

“Yes, of course,” she says. “You can go right back to your old life, if you want. No one will stop you.”

It’s true, but not for the reason he thinks. With Mace back in the real world and no real people left to support it, SHIELD will likely collapse. It shouldn’t matter what that means, seeing as this reality is no more than a madman’s code. But if Fitz was here, trapped in a world without her or anyone who could turn him to the light, how would she be able to go on? Surely she’d find herself coming back here, trapping herself as well if it meant she had a sliver of a chance of bringing him back with her.

She closes her eyes and shakes her head to clear it. There’s no use in worrying when there’s work to be done.

“We have May, Fitz,” she says. “It’s time to go home.”

May, unlike Fitz, is bound and gagged in Vault D. They’ll have to knock her out and drag her through, but they have to make sure she gets through. Mack is coming because they told him a lie, but if it becomes necessary, they’re ready to knock him out, too. 

And really, they’ve already decided to do the same with Fitz, but Jemma is hoping beyond hope that she won’t have to. Somehow, it feels like everything they’ve been through in the Framework will be worth it if he’ll just follow her one more time.

He doesn’t struggle when the agents go to zip tie his hands, and she finds it encouraging. She hasn’t been able to broach the subject of romance with him yet, but they talked about their friendship in great detail, filling in the gaps between what he remembers, and she hopes that even that kind of love is enough to tempt him. 

“I remembered something else,” he says when they’re flying over the Atlantic. “Something that feels different.”

She turns to him, brows drawn together in concern. “Something bad?” she asks, then shudders. “Something about Ward?”

Fitz looks over to the cockpit where Ward sits and shakes his head. “No, not bad. Some of the memories  _ have  _ been bad, but not this one. In this one, you and I were . . .”

She closes her eyes, knowing there’s a whole list of things he could be referring to, many of which would be awkward to explain. Still, she presses on.

“Yes?”

He peers over at her, as if he’s divining her secrets. “Well, first, I was yelling at Director Mace. I was so angry, because you weren’t there. And then I heard you call my name, and we were running towards each other.”

“We embraced, yes,” she adds carefully. “Mace sent me away on a top-secret mission, and he didn’t let me say goodbye or take my phone. You thought I was in danger.”

He squints at her. “You held onto me for dear life.”

“Well,” she says, schooling her expression, “I was worried about you, too. You got into trouble while I was gone.”

She looks away as he continues to look at her, and as much as she’s improved at lying, she knows she can’t fool him.

“The way you held me,” he says, “no one’s ever held me like that before. I’ve never _ felt _ that way before.” When she dares to look back at him, he’s more confused than she’s ever seen him. “We were more than friends, weren’t we? I felt like I had my whole world in my arms.”

He looks down at where his arms would be of they weren’t tied behind his back, and Jemma tries to decide how much truth she’ll need to hide. 

“We were very close.  _ Are _ very close. We’ve known each other for a long time.”

He frowns. “So you’ve said.”

“So you’ve remembered,” she counters.

“I love Ophelia,” he says, and he doesn’t know how much it breaks her heart. “She would want to come with me. You haven’t mentioned anything about it.”

Jemma’s first thought is that it’s a little late, as they are already en route, but she knows her second thought will be better received.

“You haven’t mentioned anything about it, either.”

“Yeah,” he says, “well, I’m a scientist. I have to see this new world of yours. If I like it, I’ll come back and take her with me.”

She can’t meet his eyes, but she can feel his gaze on her.

“You promised me I could come back,” he says.

She nods, staring at her clasped hands. “And you will, if you want to. And you’ll know where the back door is, so you can come right back with her. That’s all true.” 

“But?”

_ But she’s an android _ , she wants to say.  _ But the woman who brainwashed you into loving her is made of nuts and bolts. I’m the one who has you in her blood. _

“But I hope you won’t want to,” she says. “Still, it’ll be your choice. As long as you go through the back door first.”

He looks at her warily, and she does her best not to notice. She avoids saying any more about the subject until they land, but the coordinates aren’t in a park, like they’re supposed to be—they’re in some sort of factory. Instead of walking into a fountain, they’ll have to jump into a pit of molten steel.

It takes them a second before they realize that Daisy can quake the backdoor open, and a knocked-out May goes in first with Coulson following behind. Jemma’s about to tell Fitz it’s his turn when she finds him white as a sheet.

“I won’t—” he stammers, “I won’t be able to come back. How can I bring Ophelia through that? I’d need  _ her _ !”

He nods towards Daisy and she sees the disgust ripple through him. As far as he’s come, he still doesn’t want any help from an Inhuman. Jemma wonders if he’ll still hate their friend when he wakes up, as they’re still not sure how many pieces of this life will go through the portal with him. 

Her thoughts are interrupted by a shuffle, and she turns to see that it’s Mack. He’s trying to get a away and Daisy is trying to subdue him, but he’s a big man and Jemma is the one with the stun gun. She rushes over to where they are and shoots him in the back as Daisy tries to cushion his fall.

“He didn’t want to leave Hope,” Daisy explains. “I couldn’t talk him into it.”

“I don’t think anyone could,” she admits, and she would have thought of that earlier if she hadn’t been so wrapped up in Fitz.

Fitz?

She looks around, but he’s nowhere to be seen, and when she calls for Mace, he appears empty handed.

“Help Mace get Mack through, and then we’ll go find him,” Daisy promises.

“I won’t go through without him,” Jemma warns, but Daisy’s eyes tell her she knows. They should have been watching him, since Ward has already left with the quinjet and there are plenty of places for Fitz to hide. She doesn’t wait for Mack to go through the portal—Mace has that well in hand. She just runs off in what she thinks is the most likely direction. 

What if she can’t find him? The thought makes her want to wretch. If he doesn’t come out of the Framework this way, who knows if they’ll ever be able to extract him. 

She looks everywhere she can think of and somehow winds up right where she started, staring at the platform while Mace and Fitz look back at her. 

“Sorry I’m late,” Fitz says. “I’m here now.”

A wave of pure relief crashes over her as Mace nods, jumping to safety as she and Fitz take each other in.

“Where did you go?” she asks. He narrows his gaze at her.

“The man I was,” he says, “the man I remember, he loved you.”

She tears her eyes away from him, feeling more vulnerable than she ever has. 

“That’s true,” she says. “But why did you come back?”

“I was scared,” he says, “but I told you, I’ve never felt that way before. If I go through that portal . . . maybe I can . . .” He trails off, looking at his shoes. “I realized that I want to love you, too.”

She stands there, absolutely speechless, not caring about the tears that trail down her cheeks. He only smiles at her before getting his cue from Daisy and taking his leap of faith. She watches while he disappears and finds herself following after him without realizing she’s jumped. When she opens her eyes and takes her first gasp of real air, she has his name on her lips even though she knows he’s not there to hear her.

She has to fight a battle to get back to him, and she’s not sure he’ll still be there when she finds him. But when she bursts through the room, there he is, wearing strange pajamas and calling out her name, and when he flings his arms around her, it’s like she’s finally come home.

“I remember,” he says with his face buried in her hair. “Jemma, I remember everything.”

She’s happier than she was when he brought her back across the universe, because he’s here, and he’s hers, and he trails kisses from her neck to her cheek to her lips. She holds his face in her hands and feels like she’s holding the world. 

“Do you still want to go back?” She rubs her thumb across his stubble and hopes that will be enough, that the love she gives him now will eclipse everything he wanted back there. But he leans in to kiss her again, this time making a promise too precious for words.

“This is my home, Jemma,” he says, looking back at her with sparkling blue eyes. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And as she sinks into his embrace, happier and more relieved than she can ever remember being, she can only think of the years of love he lost, and the lifetime she’ll have to make up for it.

**Author's Note:**

> I regularly post sneak peeks and general ramblings about my writing on [my tumblr](http://agent-85.tumblr.com/tagged/Writings%20of%20Agent%2085).


End file.
